The Prata Princess (check out her amazing stories on her blog - sizzlinginsingapore) asked me a very interesting question that seems to be a spin of a "new year's resolution" type of query. She asked, "what's your word for the year?"
Mine?
Confidence.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Games We Play
Birthday
"I wish it was my birthday, and not a rainy Tuesday.
I wish I was not lonely, laying by your side.
I wish it was a good thing, and not an awful truth thing.
I wish it was my birthday, and everything was cool."
- D'sound, off their new album "My Today" - http://www.dsound.com
This song is off the charts. Sexy acid jazz and with a good chill out feel with a touch of soul, R&B and 70's dance. It's one of those emotional ironies - it's awesome to sing along with this song; it's "groovy" and the tune makes you feel good, but it's also a song about longing and loneliness.
As I type this post at 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon, wearing plaid banana rep boxers and some random t-shirt I bought in a Seattle Costco several years ago, I find myself slouched on the executive chair I had bought myself for law school with half-destroyed iPod earphones plugged into my ears listening to "Birthday" on repeat on itunes, and with my arms reached out and hands sprawled out on top of my laptop thinking about the games we play...the games women play.
I must've had several conversations with friends the past few weeks about playing games. It seems like that everyone agrees that even when one claims that he or she isn't playing, "playing" is essentially unavoidable so as long as you are trying to get someone to go out with you or at the least, one person is attracted to another. Everyone plays the game. When you say that you are not playing a game, you still are playing, just to a lesser degree. So,the only real question left is to what degree you are willing to play.
Someone once asked me what I thought the game was about. At first, I told them that I thought it was just the way things are here in the US (of course, I was pretending to be the innocent foreigner who didn't have a better answer about dating). On a deeper level, however, I did have a better answer and I shared it with one of my other good friends: It's the comprehensive management of another's expectations, usually between two people who are somewhat attracted to each other but haven't figured out what to do yet, and while they are figuring things out, they find ways to keep things hanging, to continue the game, to progress or to regress, or to kill time because nothing else in life seems more amusing then this innocuous and fleeting flirtation. Because it's about management of another's expectations, it can be used to push the other person away, or to "push" the other away only to signal to him or her that the "pusher" wants him or her to push back. The permutations are endless and the signs, well, open to several intepretations.
It reached a point in my life where I said that I would stop overanalyzing women's actions when I found myself in that situation and eventually in a deep hole. Unfortunately, however, the answer wasn't that simple. SOME analysis is needed when you're in the game for cripes sake. What if you miss a sign? What if you, as an old friend used to say, "miss the bus?" But hold on one second, on an even deeper level, aren't you giving yourself too much crap to deal with if you were to think that way? Why does it have to always be about, "how do i get her," and not about, "what the hell do I want?" My best friend once gave me good advice about dating a few years back after my legendary break up. He said, "dude, when you go out on a date, think about having fun for yourself. Don't get caught up trying to make her happy all the time." So I tell myself, well, if you both really like each other and want to go out, then it'll happen and continue, or something cosmically warped like that.
How much is in your control and how much isn't? What if you are absolutely convinced that the girl you like will not budge no matter what you do, but deep down inside, if you DO something then she might reciprocate? So many what ifs. I would need to pop a motrin for each what if that has haunted me in this lifetime. As my more devout friends would tell me, "God will give you the right girl at the right time." Nice. God will "give" me a girl. Perhaps they meant to say that I would meet the right girl in "God's time."
"I wish it was a good thing, and not an awful truth thing."
I can go on and on about this, and chances are this won't be my last post on this topic. Feel free to leave comments, would love to hear about your experiences - and don't bother giving me advice, you don't even know my situation.
By the way, life becomes more interesting when you like someone and haven't genuinely liked anyone in forever. Like is good. Time to head out to the city and par-tey. I'll take some shots tonight for the people reading this post. Salud mis amigos y amigas.
"I wish it was my birthday, and not a rainy Tuesday.
I wish I was not lonely, laying by your side.
I wish it was a good thing, and not an awful truth thing.
I wish it was my birthday, and everything was cool."
- D'sound, off their new album "My Today" - http://www.dsound.com
This song is off the charts. Sexy acid jazz and with a good chill out feel with a touch of soul, R&B and 70's dance. It's one of those emotional ironies - it's awesome to sing along with this song; it's "groovy" and the tune makes you feel good, but it's also a song about longing and loneliness.
As I type this post at 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon, wearing plaid banana rep boxers and some random t-shirt I bought in a Seattle Costco several years ago, I find myself slouched on the executive chair I had bought myself for law school with half-destroyed iPod earphones plugged into my ears listening to "Birthday" on repeat on itunes, and with my arms reached out and hands sprawled out on top of my laptop thinking about the games we play...the games women play.
I must've had several conversations with friends the past few weeks about playing games. It seems like that everyone agrees that even when one claims that he or she isn't playing, "playing" is essentially unavoidable so as long as you are trying to get someone to go out with you or at the least, one person is attracted to another. Everyone plays the game. When you say that you are not playing a game, you still are playing, just to a lesser degree. So,the only real question left is to what degree you are willing to play.
Someone once asked me what I thought the game was about. At first, I told them that I thought it was just the way things are here in the US (of course, I was pretending to be the innocent foreigner who didn't have a better answer about dating). On a deeper level, however, I did have a better answer and I shared it with one of my other good friends: It's the comprehensive management of another's expectations, usually between two people who are somewhat attracted to each other but haven't figured out what to do yet, and while they are figuring things out, they find ways to keep things hanging, to continue the game, to progress or to regress, or to kill time because nothing else in life seems more amusing then this innocuous and fleeting flirtation. Because it's about management of another's expectations, it can be used to push the other person away, or to "push" the other away only to signal to him or her that the "pusher" wants him or her to push back. The permutations are endless and the signs, well, open to several intepretations.
It reached a point in my life where I said that I would stop overanalyzing women's actions when I found myself in that situation and eventually in a deep hole. Unfortunately, however, the answer wasn't that simple. SOME analysis is needed when you're in the game for cripes sake. What if you miss a sign? What if you, as an old friend used to say, "miss the bus?" But hold on one second, on an even deeper level, aren't you giving yourself too much crap to deal with if you were to think that way? Why does it have to always be about, "how do i get her," and not about, "what the hell do I want?" My best friend once gave me good advice about dating a few years back after my legendary break up. He said, "dude, when you go out on a date, think about having fun for yourself. Don't get caught up trying to make her happy all the time." So I tell myself, well, if you both really like each other and want to go out, then it'll happen and continue, or something cosmically warped like that.
How much is in your control and how much isn't? What if you are absolutely convinced that the girl you like will not budge no matter what you do, but deep down inside, if you DO something then she might reciprocate? So many what ifs. I would need to pop a motrin for each what if that has haunted me in this lifetime. As my more devout friends would tell me, "God will give you the right girl at the right time." Nice. God will "give" me a girl. Perhaps they meant to say that I would meet the right girl in "God's time."
"I wish it was a good thing, and not an awful truth thing."
I can go on and on about this, and chances are this won't be my last post on this topic. Feel free to leave comments, would love to hear about your experiences - and don't bother giving me advice, you don't even know my situation.
By the way, life becomes more interesting when you like someone and haven't genuinely liked anyone in forever. Like is good. Time to head out to the city and par-tey. I'll take some shots tonight for the people reading this post. Salud mis amigos y amigas.
Random Thoughts: Insane New York
1. Simpson, Thacher & Bartlett raised the salaries of their first-year associates to $160,000. Soon after, the top elite NY law firms followed, including the "whiteshoe" Sullivan & Cromwell, which now pays their senior associates $310,000 according to a recent article. Utterly ridiculous. There are over 300 law schools in the United States and a significant amount (hundreds of thousands?) of "lawyers" that enter the profession every year. A small percentage of the lawyers end up working for large firms (300-1300 lawyers) and many of them never worked between college and law school. This just befuddles me. I always think that, perhaps with the great exception of the medical profession (in some circumstances), everyone could use some business acumen and a sense of appreciation for human resources no matter what profession they belong. More importantly and specifically, a sense of direction, organization and a sincere UNDERSTANDING of what the hell you are supposed to do could benefit lawyers and even convert law firms into more efficient business organizations. The fact of the matter is, in most of these firms, you don't do squat for the first few years in your career. Yet, you earn 6 figures. I know, I know, who am I to rant? I get my bonus and raise this Tuesday.
2. I was hanging out with two of my co-workers, both NY natives, when they told me that they like it when their man puts them in their place. One said, "I hate it when men say, 'whatever you want honey,'" while the other one said, "You need some explosiveness in your life you know?" GEEZ. It makes me wonder why I hadn't moved to NY at an earlier age. Last I checked, my past few girlfriends were relieved to have broken up with me because I put them in their place once in a while. Maybe I'm just too relentless when I go off all angry about things. That's effin' awesome (who uses "effin" and "befuddles" in the same writing?)- although I think I have to take it easy on the road from now on. My luck on the road has run out - major car accident, carjacking incident, carnapping incident, dude with road rage (who was an amateur boxer) punched me, another major car accident where I hit a police convoy transporting recently arrested drug syndicate members, ... I digress.
3. One of my co-workers took me out for karaoke with her boyfriend and some friends. So maybe this doesn't fit under the NY theme since the bar was located in Stamford. Damn. I couldn't believe the crowd. For the most part, they were receptive and would sing along with just about everyone, but then again 75% of the patrons could carry a decent tune. The unbelievable part of the evening was when the 25% came up. It wasn't so much that they were horrible - one girl had sung an entire song on one note that wasn't even really a "note," had no concept of timing, and couldn't even read the damn lyrics of the karaoke screen - it was more of the fact that if you couldn't sing, people would BOO you. What the hell? This is karaoke not American Idol. Lame. Tough crowd. It's a good thing I busted out some signature songs to get the crowd going and thus save myself from the wrath of the Stamfordites. Very unforgiving.
4. I hear it's bad luck to have things in threes. So I'm going to add this fourth random thought just for the hell of it: I hear it's bad luck to have things in threes.
2. I was hanging out with two of my co-workers, both NY natives, when they told me that they like it when their man puts them in their place. One said, "I hate it when men say, 'whatever you want honey,'" while the other one said, "You need some explosiveness in your life you know?" GEEZ. It makes me wonder why I hadn't moved to NY at an earlier age. Last I checked, my past few girlfriends were relieved to have broken up with me because I put them in their place once in a while. Maybe I'm just too relentless when I go off all angry about things. That's effin' awesome (who uses "effin" and "befuddles" in the same writing?)- although I think I have to take it easy on the road from now on. My luck on the road has run out - major car accident, carjacking incident, carnapping incident, dude with road rage (who was an amateur boxer) punched me, another major car accident where I hit a police convoy transporting recently arrested drug syndicate members, ... I digress.
3. One of my co-workers took me out for karaoke with her boyfriend and some friends. So maybe this doesn't fit under the NY theme since the bar was located in Stamford. Damn. I couldn't believe the crowd. For the most part, they were receptive and would sing along with just about everyone, but then again 75% of the patrons could carry a decent tune. The unbelievable part of the evening was when the 25% came up. It wasn't so much that they were horrible - one girl had sung an entire song on one note that wasn't even really a "note," had no concept of timing, and couldn't even read the damn lyrics of the karaoke screen - it was more of the fact that if you couldn't sing, people would BOO you. What the hell? This is karaoke not American Idol. Lame. Tough crowd. It's a good thing I busted out some signature songs to get the crowd going and thus save myself from the wrath of the Stamfordites. Very unforgiving.
4. I hear it's bad luck to have things in threes. So I'm going to add this fourth random thought just for the hell of it: I hear it's bad luck to have things in threes.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Nice guys drink weak sauce
So I come across this email from a buddy. All my friends tell me that I fit this mold of the "nice guy," so as you can imagine, the average reasonable person would expect the following article to fully resonate in me. I feel compelled for once to fill up an entire post with someone else's writing because I probably would've written it the same way anyway. Enjoy:
TO THE NICE GUYS. (Wharton Undergraduate Journal)
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl's every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they're at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don't end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled and unjustly abandoned this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn't worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you'd ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a humor that romantically linked her and the guy that she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-humor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn't have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing serious between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamlessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: oh, but we're just friends! And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you're not like that.
The nice guys don't often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don't seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can't. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical manipulative *itches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as, oh he's too nice to date, or he would be a good boyfriend but not for me or he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn't possibly ask him out! or the most frustrating of all: no, it would ruin our friendship. Yet they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their nice too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can't figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy) and what they do (I'm going to sleep with this complete jerk now). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice- guy- finishes- last phenomenon doesnt last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of the thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is, finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you're sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, insane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgment, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well-deserved vindication is coming..
So now I'm starting to doubt that this was actually published in a Wharton paper. There were several typos and it wasn't very well written. I know, I know, I'm being a jackass, but as a litigator, I have no choice but to be critical about these types of things. Whatever. I thought it was amusing.
In the meantime, 2007 for Mr. Nice Guy has started off with a bang...a loud, destructive, what-the-hell-just-happened, explosion, the leftover fragments of which strangely remind me of the dark and twilight zone-ish past that had been vanquished the past few years. But whatever. The year is young and I'm still a NY lawyer with his head and heart in the right place and I can only hope that better things will come my way.
Just know, if you ever find yourself in a bind, survival in this cruel world is more likely when you concede two things:
1. When you get hurt, you only get stronger when you allow yourself to believe that it will happen again; and
2. When the shit hits the fan, the last thing you should ever do to yourself is wallow in self-pity.
Happy New Year from the Sensitive Man, the Nice Guy. Man that sounded weak. Pweh! Someone get me a scotch and a punching bag.
TO THE NICE GUYS. (Wharton Undergraduate Journal)
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl's every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they're at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don't end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled and unjustly abandoned this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn't worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you'd ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a humor that romantically linked her and the guy that she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-humor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn't have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing serious between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamlessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: oh, but we're just friends! And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you're not like that.
The nice guys don't often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don't seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can't. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical manipulative *itches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as, oh he's too nice to date, or he would be a good boyfriend but not for me or he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn't possibly ask him out! or the most frustrating of all: no, it would ruin our friendship. Yet they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their nice too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can't figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy) and what they do (I'm going to sleep with this complete jerk now). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice- guy- finishes- last phenomenon doesnt last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of the thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is, finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you're sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, insane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgment, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well-deserved vindication is coming..
So now I'm starting to doubt that this was actually published in a Wharton paper. There were several typos and it wasn't very well written. I know, I know, I'm being a jackass, but as a litigator, I have no choice but to be critical about these types of things. Whatever. I thought it was amusing.
In the meantime, 2007 for Mr. Nice Guy has started off with a bang...a loud, destructive, what-the-hell-just-happened, explosion, the leftover fragments of which strangely remind me of the dark and twilight zone-ish past that had been vanquished the past few years. But whatever. The year is young and I'm still a NY lawyer with his head and heart in the right place and I can only hope that better things will come my way.
Just know, if you ever find yourself in a bind, survival in this cruel world is more likely when you concede two things:
1. When you get hurt, you only get stronger when you allow yourself to believe that it will happen again; and
2. When the shit hits the fan, the last thing you should ever do to yourself is wallow in self-pity.
Happy New Year from the Sensitive Man, the Nice Guy. Man that sounded weak. Pweh! Someone get me a scotch and a punching bag.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Strike a balance
Back in college, our debate team always seemed to use this argumentation trick, most especially when the other team knew about the subject matter better than we did. The trick was simple. If our opponents proposed a new policy in the debate round, we always "nuanced" the solution by suggesting that the policy was extreme and that our counterproposal was a "balance" of all interests. If we proposed a policy or a plan, and the opposing team shot it down with their thorough knowledge of the topic, our second speaker would come up and finesse our policy to make it sound less extreme and closer to a balanced proposition, thus making our opponents look like they had misinterpreted our first speaker's plan.
Sometimes when you develop skill sets, you can't help but bring them into other aspects of your life. In my case, the reasoning and argumentation skills I had developed during college shaped the way I communicated with people after college. It was only years after the banter and exchanges with friends and strangers that I started to realize what I was saying and how I was representing myself to others: every answer was an attempt to show an effort of striking a balance in life.
Apparently, behind every best and safe answer to any and almost every life question is the concept of striking a balance. What is your attitude towards work? Work hard play hard. How would you allocate your free time in a year? Lots of alone time, vacation with family, friday night partying with friends, and Saturday evening dates. What do you like to drink in an evening? A few bottles of beer, a shot or two, and maybe even a glass of wine...then water. How do you describe your ideal girlfriend? Prudent, intelligent, strong-willed, independent, hot, sexy, appealing, smells good (yeah, I know right?)... You get the picture.
What does this all mean though? Does it mean that a bit of everything is better and healthier than having too much of one thing? Or, is it a strong reflection of a combination of a short attention span, indecisiveness and lack of a solid stance in living life? Is it just playing safe? Too safe? Denny Crane would call you a "Nansy Pansy." What if it really is about the old me? You know, the one who is risk averse (check out the old posts about geronimo moments - I'm too lazy to make a link). Maybe I am just mixing up concepts. Balance doesn't necessarily mean compromise. Maybe I am on the right track.
At least one thing is for sure. I like and respect myself more than I did the past few years and it's giving me some new found confidence in everything I do. I like the whole concept of balance. I'm getting there. I'm getting there.
Thank you, debate society, for the tip.
Sometimes when you develop skill sets, you can't help but bring them into other aspects of your life. In my case, the reasoning and argumentation skills I had developed during college shaped the way I communicated with people after college. It was only years after the banter and exchanges with friends and strangers that I started to realize what I was saying and how I was representing myself to others: every answer was an attempt to show an effort of striking a balance in life.
Apparently, behind every best and safe answer to any and almost every life question is the concept of striking a balance. What is your attitude towards work? Work hard play hard. How would you allocate your free time in a year? Lots of alone time, vacation with family, friday night partying with friends, and Saturday evening dates. What do you like to drink in an evening? A few bottles of beer, a shot or two, and maybe even a glass of wine...then water. How do you describe your ideal girlfriend? Prudent, intelligent, strong-willed, independent, hot, sexy, appealing, smells good (yeah, I know right?)... You get the picture.
What does this all mean though? Does it mean that a bit of everything is better and healthier than having too much of one thing? Or, is it a strong reflection of a combination of a short attention span, indecisiveness and lack of a solid stance in living life? Is it just playing safe? Too safe? Denny Crane would call you a "Nansy Pansy." What if it really is about the old me? You know, the one who is risk averse (check out the old posts about geronimo moments - I'm too lazy to make a link). Maybe I am just mixing up concepts. Balance doesn't necessarily mean compromise. Maybe I am on the right track.
At least one thing is for sure. I like and respect myself more than I did the past few years and it's giving me some new found confidence in everything I do. I like the whole concept of balance. I'm getting there. I'm getting there.
Thank you, debate society, for the tip.
Monday, January 15, 2007
The Sensitive Man says, "In 2007...
...do not take everything so seriously;
...do not be too serious;
...do not take everything too personally;
...do not make a sarcastic joke if you know that its delivery will be interpreted as being a serious pointed statement;
...do not be too self-conscious;
...do not be someone else;
...do not be a douche;
...do not compromise passion;
...do not be fooled by that artificial no late fee policy of Blockbuster (check your credit card statements)
...since we're on the topic, you'd better also check your credit card statements for random monthly fees charged to you if you had purchased tickets off the ticketmaster website.
...do not think that this is unsolicited advice;
...do not think this is about you;
...do not think this is about me;
...do not think that I am obnoxiously trying to preach;
...do not think this is a serious post;
...do not think this is an attempt to be funny;
...do not think you are the only one in this world with baggage;
...do not think you lack uniqueness;
...most importantly, DO NOT THINK TOO MUCH, unless you're getting paid to do so. Give yourself more credit. You'll be much happier."
...do not be too serious;
...do not take everything too personally;
...do not make a sarcastic joke if you know that its delivery will be interpreted as being a serious pointed statement;
...do not be too self-conscious;
...do not be someone else;
...do not be a douche;
...do not compromise passion;
...do not be fooled by that artificial no late fee policy of Blockbuster (check your credit card statements)
...since we're on the topic, you'd better also check your credit card statements for random monthly fees charged to you if you had purchased tickets off the ticketmaster website.
...do not think that this is unsolicited advice;
...do not think this is about you;
...do not think this is about me;
...do not think that I am obnoxiously trying to preach;
...do not think this is a serious post;
...do not think this is an attempt to be funny;
...do not think you are the only one in this world with baggage;
...do not think you lack uniqueness;
...most importantly, DO NOT THINK TOO MUCH, unless you're getting paid to do so. Give yourself more credit. You'll be much happier."
My Stupid Mouth
It appears, at least from my humble and lay perspective, that one of the more fundamental characteristics common to successful or memorable movies or tv shows is the ability to strike at the heart of themes to which people personally relate. I'm sure most of you out there have been guilty of saying, "that's me!" when watching a movie with a persona that seems to illustrate your "issues" in life, albeit most of the time, the dark and humorous ones. The extent of this relation-to-movie phenomemon can be absurd too. For example, I was having dinner with a friend from law school here in New York when we noticed 4 women at the bar: a red head, brunette, and two blondes sipping on martinis, scoping out men, and yes...talking about sex.
I guess in a sense Hollywood has the power to sustain social themes and thus draw the viewer closer and more personally to the film. In a certain sense, songs have the same power...at least the well-written ones.
The other evening, I was reminded of my college days - driving fast cars, uncontrollable hormones, junk-food binging and being a member of a rock band. During the lighter and latter years, I remember performing a John Mayer song that resonated in me because of the lyrics and the tune. I thought that the song was me or at least a projection of how I wanted to be.
Check it out:
My stupid mouth
Has got me in trouble
I said too much again
To a date over dinner yesterday
And I could see
She was offended
She said "well anyway..."
Just dying for a subject change
Oh, it's another social casualty
Score one more for me
How could I forget?
Mama said "think before speaking"
No filter in my head
Oh, what's a boy to do
I guess he better find one soon
We bit our lips
She looked out the window
Rolling tiny balls of napkin paper
I played a quick game of chess with the salt and pepper shaker
And I could see clearly, An indelible line was drawn
Between what was good, what JUST slipped out and what went wrong
Oh, the way she feels about me has changed
Thanks for playing, try again.
How could I forget?
Mama said "think before speaking"
No filter in my head
Oh, what's a boy to do
I guess he better find one
I'm never speaking up again
It only hurts me
I'd rather be a mystery
Than she desert me
Oh I'm never speaking up again
Starting now
One more thing
Why is it my fault?
So maybe I try too hard
But it's all because of this desire
I just wanna be liked
I just wanna be funny
Looks like the jokes on me
So call me captain backfire
I'm never speaking up again
it only hurts me
I'd rather be a mystery
than she desert me
oh i'm never speaking up again
Starting now, starting now...
There's a cute irony to the song. The irony is, in some respects, the guy in the song is a complete and utter loser. In real life, he needs to shape the way he communicates with women because because saying too much can get you into deep holes. Of course, he attempts to try harder the next time and ends up overcompensating by saying too little, and then he becomes a boring conversationalist and a bad date. The irony however, lies in a distinction I made above. This "loser" is the ultimate winner in movieland. This is John Cusack. The guy who fumbles and screws up and can't articulate his feelings and gets restless during a dinner date. The girl character, of course, ends up falling for him...and then going back to real life, chick-flick fanatics end up falling for him too.
I can't really tell if my perspective on my relation to this song is one from the movieland concept or the real life one. Hell, I can't even tell if this is who I am or who I want to be, or who I don't want to be. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Maybe I just like the song and I'm a fan of the underdog.
"One more thing
Why is it my fault?
So maybe I try too hard
But it's all because of this desire
I just wanna be liked
I just wanna be funny
Looks like the jokes on me
So call me captain backfire"
I love it. It's almost like a self-deprecating joke turned hit song.
TRIVIA: It's bizaare, as I was told the other night, how things come around full circle - This song reminded me of funny social themes in life - dating, self-consciousness and self-confidence - which then reminded me of hollywood characters - John Cusack in any chick-flick. I then remembered watching Serendipity starring John Cusack. The Serendipity soundtrack contains my favorite John Mayer song, "1983."
I guess in a sense Hollywood has the power to sustain social themes and thus draw the viewer closer and more personally to the film. In a certain sense, songs have the same power...at least the well-written ones.
The other evening, I was reminded of my college days - driving fast cars, uncontrollable hormones, junk-food binging and being a member of a rock band. During the lighter and latter years, I remember performing a John Mayer song that resonated in me because of the lyrics and the tune. I thought that the song was me or at least a projection of how I wanted to be.
Check it out:
My stupid mouth
Has got me in trouble
I said too much again
To a date over dinner yesterday
And I could see
She was offended
She said "well anyway..."
Just dying for a subject change
Oh, it's another social casualty
Score one more for me
How could I forget?
Mama said "think before speaking"
No filter in my head
Oh, what's a boy to do
I guess he better find one soon
We bit our lips
She looked out the window
Rolling tiny balls of napkin paper
I played a quick game of chess with the salt and pepper shaker
And I could see clearly, An indelible line was drawn
Between what was good, what JUST slipped out and what went wrong
Oh, the way she feels about me has changed
Thanks for playing, try again.
How could I forget?
Mama said "think before speaking"
No filter in my head
Oh, what's a boy to do
I guess he better find one
I'm never speaking up again
It only hurts me
I'd rather be a mystery
Than she desert me
Oh I'm never speaking up again
Starting now
One more thing
Why is it my fault?
So maybe I try too hard
But it's all because of this desire
I just wanna be liked
I just wanna be funny
Looks like the jokes on me
So call me captain backfire
I'm never speaking up again
it only hurts me
I'd rather be a mystery
than she desert me
oh i'm never speaking up again
Starting now, starting now...
There's a cute irony to the song. The irony is, in some respects, the guy in the song is a complete and utter loser. In real life, he needs to shape the way he communicates with women because because saying too much can get you into deep holes. Of course, he attempts to try harder the next time and ends up overcompensating by saying too little, and then he becomes a boring conversationalist and a bad date. The irony however, lies in a distinction I made above. This "loser" is the ultimate winner in movieland. This is John Cusack. The guy who fumbles and screws up and can't articulate his feelings and gets restless during a dinner date. The girl character, of course, ends up falling for him...and then going back to real life, chick-flick fanatics end up falling for him too.
I can't really tell if my perspective on my relation to this song is one from the movieland concept or the real life one. Hell, I can't even tell if this is who I am or who I want to be, or who I don't want to be. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Maybe I just like the song and I'm a fan of the underdog.
"One more thing
Why is it my fault?
So maybe I try too hard
But it's all because of this desire
I just wanna be liked
I just wanna be funny
Looks like the jokes on me
So call me captain backfire"
I love it. It's almost like a self-deprecating joke turned hit song.
TRIVIA: It's bizaare, as I was told the other night, how things come around full circle - This song reminded me of funny social themes in life - dating, self-consciousness and self-confidence - which then reminded me of hollywood characters - John Cusack in any chick-flick. I then remembered watching Serendipity starring John Cusack. The Serendipity soundtrack contains my favorite John Mayer song, "1983."
Thursday, November 23, 2006
5 Items for Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving can be somewhat of a confusing holiday. People simply don't know what to do or figure out the holiday's purpose. Many people find those questions irrelevant since society has reduced the social celebration into an annual vacation with a buddy or two. Many find this end of November event to be a family affair, serving as a precursor to the Christmas season. To others, it is the opportunity to line up outside Wal-Mart before 5 in the morning with the hope of beating others to that very limited supply of 42 inch digital flatscreen TVs, originally priced at $1,677, and now, thanks to Turkey Day, at a mere $989.
I thought about lining up for the Wal-Mart spree. I backed out because I wasn't in shape thanks to my newly discovered herniated disc (I hear that yearly, a significant percentage of people arrested right around the end of November, and charged with assault and battery are Wal-Mart customers engaging in this sale madness). Plus, I can't deal with the stress of having Wal-Mart staff hide the TVs in some other random department before the doors open (i.e. placing the TVs next to the lawn equipment).
Because I'm not from this country, I would not dare preach about the meaning of Thanksgiving. I would like however, to make a suggestion for those people who may be looking for a more meaningful holiday.
Simply write down 5 things you are thankful for. You don't have to say it or do anything about it. Just write it. Writing can be a form or manifestation of one of the everyday things people have most difficulty in achieving...self-admission - putting pride and self-centeredness in the backseat just to appreciate what is in front of you.
Here's my list:
1. The lives of the strangers who saved me (and of course, being alive).
2. My caring sacrificing family.
3. Passing the Bar examinations and being a lawyer.
4. Being able to play the piano.
5. My inboxes.
Happy Turkey Day. Oh, and yes, I'm buying that flatscreen TV, but at the regular price with financing.
I thought about lining up for the Wal-Mart spree. I backed out because I wasn't in shape thanks to my newly discovered herniated disc (I hear that yearly, a significant percentage of people arrested right around the end of November, and charged with assault and battery are Wal-Mart customers engaging in this sale madness). Plus, I can't deal with the stress of having Wal-Mart staff hide the TVs in some other random department before the doors open (i.e. placing the TVs next to the lawn equipment).
Because I'm not from this country, I would not dare preach about the meaning of Thanksgiving. I would like however, to make a suggestion for those people who may be looking for a more meaningful holiday.
Simply write down 5 things you are thankful for. You don't have to say it or do anything about it. Just write it. Writing can be a form or manifestation of one of the everyday things people have most difficulty in achieving...self-admission - putting pride and self-centeredness in the backseat just to appreciate what is in front of you.
Here's my list:
1. The lives of the strangers who saved me (and of course, being alive).
2. My caring sacrificing family.
3. Passing the Bar examinations and being a lawyer.
4. Being able to play the piano.
5. My inboxes.
Happy Turkey Day. Oh, and yes, I'm buying that flatscreen TV, but at the regular price with financing.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
The Inbox
The Inbox.
Your voicemail, email, recording machine, and mailbox.
On a pretty bad level, these inboxes are at times full of crap, spam, telemarketing practice speeches, and family "love."
On a tolerable more neutral level, they are full of messages from old friends you haven't seen in years or not so close friends you don't feel like talking to. Here, it is your mood or present physiological condition that determines whether these messages are worthy of your attention and response.
On a very good level, inboxes are full of responses from your crush, admission letters from graduate schools, rebate and refund confirmations, gossip and unexpected affirmations and compliments from people you want to hear from.
This is one example of how some people's brains would process (and categorize) information upon looking at through their inbox. It's a routine. Like all normal activity, however, the most ordinary and regular of routines can be brought under a new light after the occurrence of shocking events...like a car accident.
My inboxes have been more of a crutch than a chore since October 16, 2006. The number of messages I had received after the accident - on my voicemail, email addresses etc. - reflected the amount of good relationships I developed over the years and it is my intention to preserve those relationships to the best of my ability.
It also made me think about small notes, hellos, and other messages I had ignored in the past. Think about it. You have one friend who drops hellos once in a while. You ignore her for months thinking that she'll be around anyway to talk to some other time. Then you brush death. Will you be around to ask her how she's doing?
Think about it. People are going out of their way and breaking their routine to ensure that they are preserving their relationship with you.
Your voicemail, email, recording machine, and mailbox.
On a pretty bad level, these inboxes are at times full of crap, spam, telemarketing practice speeches, and family "love."
On a tolerable more neutral level, they are full of messages from old friends you haven't seen in years or not so close friends you don't feel like talking to. Here, it is your mood or present physiological condition that determines whether these messages are worthy of your attention and response.
On a very good level, inboxes are full of responses from your crush, admission letters from graduate schools, rebate and refund confirmations, gossip and unexpected affirmations and compliments from people you want to hear from.
This is one example of how some people's brains would process (and categorize) information upon looking at through their inbox. It's a routine. Like all normal activity, however, the most ordinary and regular of routines can be brought under a new light after the occurrence of shocking events...like a car accident.
My inboxes have been more of a crutch than a chore since October 16, 2006. The number of messages I had received after the accident - on my voicemail, email addresses etc. - reflected the amount of good relationships I developed over the years and it is my intention to preserve those relationships to the best of my ability.
It also made me think about small notes, hellos, and other messages I had ignored in the past. Think about it. You have one friend who drops hellos once in a while. You ignore her for months thinking that she'll be around anyway to talk to some other time. Then you brush death. Will you be around to ask her how she's doing?
Think about it. People are going out of their way and breaking their routine to ensure that they are preserving their relationship with you.
Changes Post-Trauma
Just some random thoughts about how things are changing around here:
1. I have made up with my ex-fiancee. We are now friends again. I found the inner peace needed to gently close the book on one long story and continue another one through friendship. Many have asked me if I would go back to her. Quite honestly, I don't even want to answer that question because it's just irrelevant at this very moment. Equally, having a sure answer to that question and not telling anyone what the answer is should not be brought to any kind of speculation. I'm just glad that I reached a point of really moving on. To think, it wasn't dating and living my life alone that led me to this peace...it was more of the combination of dating, living my life alone, and experiencing a near fatal accident that brought me to healing this once tumultuous relationship.
2. I am considering cutting beef and pork from my diet for 2007.
3. A blessing in disguise - I prayed may darndest to recover fully and quickly. A surprise herniated disc kept that prayer from being answered. After a few days of sadness, I realized that there was something good in all of this. The herniated disc will be treated by constant physical therapy and the strengthening of my lower back. It will be supplemented by exercises, and other forms of specific physical activity. Furthermore, the condition is easier to treat with a stronger upper body in general. A big stomach won't help support good posture, and a faulty posture will not help alleviate my condition. Thus, we go back to number 2.
4. I need to start planning my future in such a way that I have the time and resources to take care of my family in the same way they have taken care of me.
5. It's time to regain the inner faith that the right woman will come into my life. It's been a long time waiting. I haven't been in a relationship in a while. Don't get me wrong, I'm not rushing into anything right now. This is more of a self-reminder to relax. I have a good career ahead of me, a fresh perspective on life, some confidence in meeting with people and the belief that the right person will just walk into my life when it's supposed to happen. Being single with the prospect of meeting someone at anytime may be one of the more exciting feelings anyone can have.
6. It's time to bring my work ethic to a new level as a real attorney. It's time to perform.
Life begins again.
1. I have made up with my ex-fiancee. We are now friends again. I found the inner peace needed to gently close the book on one long story and continue another one through friendship. Many have asked me if I would go back to her. Quite honestly, I don't even want to answer that question because it's just irrelevant at this very moment. Equally, having a sure answer to that question and not telling anyone what the answer is should not be brought to any kind of speculation. I'm just glad that I reached a point of really moving on. To think, it wasn't dating and living my life alone that led me to this peace...it was more of the combination of dating, living my life alone, and experiencing a near fatal accident that brought me to healing this once tumultuous relationship.
2. I am considering cutting beef and pork from my diet for 2007.
3. A blessing in disguise - I prayed may darndest to recover fully and quickly. A surprise herniated disc kept that prayer from being answered. After a few days of sadness, I realized that there was something good in all of this. The herniated disc will be treated by constant physical therapy and the strengthening of my lower back. It will be supplemented by exercises, and other forms of specific physical activity. Furthermore, the condition is easier to treat with a stronger upper body in general. A big stomach won't help support good posture, and a faulty posture will not help alleviate my condition. Thus, we go back to number 2.
4. I need to start planning my future in such a way that I have the time and resources to take care of my family in the same way they have taken care of me.
5. It's time to regain the inner faith that the right woman will come into my life. It's been a long time waiting. I haven't been in a relationship in a while. Don't get me wrong, I'm not rushing into anything right now. This is more of a self-reminder to relax. I have a good career ahead of me, a fresh perspective on life, some confidence in meeting with people and the belief that the right person will just walk into my life when it's supposed to happen. Being single with the prospect of meeting someone at anytime may be one of the more exciting feelings anyone can have.
6. It's time to bring my work ethic to a new level as a real attorney. It's time to perform.
Life begins again.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
I am a Lawyer
Yes.
It is true. I am a lawyer. Officially.
The NY Bar results were just released this morning. My mother and sister have been taking care of me since the accident last month and today must've been their best morning yet. I stepped outside of my room after checking online whether I made it.
"I'm a lawyer."
My family started jumping up and down. It was a funny scene to say the least.
Unfortunately, I am an injured lawyer. My doctor just called to tell me that he was surprised by the MRI results on my back. Apparently, I am suffering from a herniated disc in the lumbar level. The hernia is pinching a nerve that goes down my right leg. Thus, the leg soreness. If the pain on my leg persists (yes leg, not back), then surgery will be required.
They are however, optimistic that surgery will not be needed given my quick progress. Doc says that there are other ways to fix my problem...
...like Pilates and Yoga.
I am a NY lawyer ready to litigate the most complex of securities and corporate fraud cases.
I am also a NY lawyer ready to bend like a pretzel and place my right heel next to my left ear.
It is true. I am a lawyer. Officially.
The NY Bar results were just released this morning. My mother and sister have been taking care of me since the accident last month and today must've been their best morning yet. I stepped outside of my room after checking online whether I made it.
"I'm a lawyer."
My family started jumping up and down. It was a funny scene to say the least.
Unfortunately, I am an injured lawyer. My doctor just called to tell me that he was surprised by the MRI results on my back. Apparently, I am suffering from a herniated disc in the lumbar level. The hernia is pinching a nerve that goes down my right leg. Thus, the leg soreness. If the pain on my leg persists (yes leg, not back), then surgery will be required.
They are however, optimistic that surgery will not be needed given my quick progress. Doc says that there are other ways to fix my problem...
...like Pilates and Yoga.
I am a NY lawyer ready to litigate the most complex of securities and corporate fraud cases.
I am also a NY lawyer ready to bend like a pretzel and place my right heel next to my left ear.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Accident
Just an informational post:
I was involved in a horrific car accident the other week. I will not get into too much detail, but let's just say that my car rolled over the guard rail along the Bronx River Parkway, rolling over another 4 times against a 4-story high boulder-filled hill and ending up slightly immersed in the Bronx River.
I suffered a subdural hemotoma meaning my brain was (and still is) bleeding, but only to a minor degree. I had one bruise on my leg and a couple of scratches on my hands. I suffered no neck or chest injuries and no broken bones. No stitches were needed as well.
Now, I am in constant pain because of the headaches and leg soreness. I will be undergoing physical therapy next week. My doctors told me I should be back at work in no time. I have been discharged from the hospital, and now my family is here taking care of me.
That's it for now. I hope to get the stories up and running soon. A lot of strange emotional things have happened since the accident.
One last thing...I was told that statistically, this kind of accident on this specific parkway virtually leaves no survivors. "Lucky to be alive" is an understatement.
I was involved in a horrific car accident the other week. I will not get into too much detail, but let's just say that my car rolled over the guard rail along the Bronx River Parkway, rolling over another 4 times against a 4-story high boulder-filled hill and ending up slightly immersed in the Bronx River.
I suffered a subdural hemotoma meaning my brain was (and still is) bleeding, but only to a minor degree. I had one bruise on my leg and a couple of scratches on my hands. I suffered no neck or chest injuries and no broken bones. No stitches were needed as well.
Now, I am in constant pain because of the headaches and leg soreness. I will be undergoing physical therapy next week. My doctors told me I should be back at work in no time. I have been discharged from the hospital, and now my family is here taking care of me.
That's it for now. I hope to get the stories up and running soon. A lot of strange emotional things have happened since the accident.
One last thing...I was told that statistically, this kind of accident on this specific parkway virtually leaves no survivors. "Lucky to be alive" is an understatement.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Cheesecake Fondue Therapy
Yes. You heard me.
Cheesecake Fondue. It is the most amazing dessert I have tasted in years. It is also the perfect way to end a Saturday evening after a week of craziness. It's therapy.
I didn't know what it was until it presented itself to me. I thought that they threw half a cheesecake into a melting pot, turned up the heat and voila. Fondue. Well, that's partially correct I guess considering they don't throw in the crust along with the cheese portion.
On a Saturday that made me want to mix drinks from "Irish Car Bombs" http://www.cocktail.com/recipes/i/IrishCarBomb.htm to Riesling, I ended up asking the waitress for a couple of glasses of water to wash down the dessert that I was about to devour.
I love fruits, but not as much as the bad stuff - cookies, chocolates etc.
What a dream come true. The silvery fondue pot was placed on a tray. On the tray:
1. Oreos
2. Vanilla Wafers
3. Marshmallows
4. Graham Crackers
Oh, and strawberries.
Prior to this dessertful enagagement, my friend Sharon and I had just eaten the best guacamole in New York on top of stuffing ourselves with Shrimp Empanadas, Shrimp Pancakes, and Mexican Barbeque Ribs at Dos Caminos http://www.brguestrestaurants.com/restaurants/dos_caminos_park/index.php. We told ourselves that we were just going to drink after that. True to form, we ended up not drinking (after she had bought me a kamikaze shot http://cocktails.about.com/od/atozcocktailrecipes/r/kmkze_cktl.htm thinking it would keep me awake for the next hour), and started attacking a fondue dish good for three people (we eventually met up with 5 other friends who barely touched the fondue).
If you're in town, drop by Dip. Cheesecake Fondue. I'm telling you, it's sinful beyond evil.
http://www.dipnyc.com/
Cheesecake Fondue. It is the most amazing dessert I have tasted in years. It is also the perfect way to end a Saturday evening after a week of craziness. It's therapy.
I didn't know what it was until it presented itself to me. I thought that they threw half a cheesecake into a melting pot, turned up the heat and voila. Fondue. Well, that's partially correct I guess considering they don't throw in the crust along with the cheese portion.
On a Saturday that made me want to mix drinks from "Irish Car Bombs" http://www.cocktail.com/recipes/i/IrishCarBomb.htm to Riesling, I ended up asking the waitress for a couple of glasses of water to wash down the dessert that I was about to devour.
I love fruits, but not as much as the bad stuff - cookies, chocolates etc.
What a dream come true. The silvery fondue pot was placed on a tray. On the tray:
1. Oreos
2. Vanilla Wafers
3. Marshmallows
4. Graham Crackers
Oh, and strawberries.
Prior to this dessertful enagagement, my friend Sharon and I had just eaten the best guacamole in New York on top of stuffing ourselves with Shrimp Empanadas, Shrimp Pancakes, and Mexican Barbeque Ribs at Dos Caminos http://www.brguestrestaurants.com/restaurants/dos_caminos_park/index.php. We told ourselves that we were just going to drink after that. True to form, we ended up not drinking (after she had bought me a kamikaze shot http://cocktails.about.com/od/atozcocktailrecipes/r/kmkze_cktl.htm thinking it would keep me awake for the next hour), and started attacking a fondue dish good for three people (we eventually met up with 5 other friends who barely touched the fondue).
If you're in town, drop by Dip. Cheesecake Fondue. I'm telling you, it's sinful beyond evil.
http://www.dipnyc.com/
Monday, September 25, 2006
Good Deeds
Keith Ferrazzi (nevereatalone.com) once spoke about the use of "currencies" in relationships. In a manner of speaking, relationships contain a dynamic trade of currencies that help get the ball rolling when it comes to making true genuine connections with others - favors, actions, help, and even simple compliments. This is not to be confused with the concept of favor equity - counting how many times you've helped someone only to expect them to pay you back in a commensurate way.
I remember talking to Keith once about these currencies, and when I gave him a sincere compliment about how his book had changed my life, he told me that that was a great example of setting out these currencies in building meaningful relationships.
Relationships however, vary in degree depending on who you are experiencing or encountering. The relationship you have with your mother reflects years of more than just mere currency exchange; it reflects the long-term development of a presumably strong foundation. It reflects family. On the other hand, the stranger on the street reflects just another passer-by...that is, until you decide to smile at him or her. Even in that scenario, you have given a simple effortless currency in furtherance of relationship building, albeit, a short-lived, casual, yet rich and meaningful one.
This is why I like good deeds. It is the manifest and illustrative currency used for building these mini-relationships with the absolute stranger.
In one minor example, I helped a woman carry her baby stroller down a steep stairway at the train station...and boy, it felt good. I know, tons of people do it in NY (yes, I've seen many people do it), and I don't claim to be the most generous person in the world, but boy...it felt good. These mini-relationships always get me going.
This is a disposition and attitude that I would like to have for the rest of my life. It's a far cry from the jackass new yorker attitude I wore a few weeks back. It's also something I wouldn't want to lose after getting into the groove of litigation.
Speaking of which, I'm at work and it's 9:30 pm. If you read this, take time out to help someone you see on the street, on your way to work...whatever. If you allow it to be spiritually refreshing, then it will be. Plus you get to make someone else's day better than it already is.
I remember talking to Keith once about these currencies, and when I gave him a sincere compliment about how his book had changed my life, he told me that that was a great example of setting out these currencies in building meaningful relationships.
Relationships however, vary in degree depending on who you are experiencing or encountering. The relationship you have with your mother reflects years of more than just mere currency exchange; it reflects the long-term development of a presumably strong foundation. It reflects family. On the other hand, the stranger on the street reflects just another passer-by...that is, until you decide to smile at him or her. Even in that scenario, you have given a simple effortless currency in furtherance of relationship building, albeit, a short-lived, casual, yet rich and meaningful one.
This is why I like good deeds. It is the manifest and illustrative currency used for building these mini-relationships with the absolute stranger.
In one minor example, I helped a woman carry her baby stroller down a steep stairway at the train station...and boy, it felt good. I know, tons of people do it in NY (yes, I've seen many people do it), and I don't claim to be the most generous person in the world, but boy...it felt good. These mini-relationships always get me going.
This is a disposition and attitude that I would like to have for the rest of my life. It's a far cry from the jackass new yorker attitude I wore a few weeks back. It's also something I wouldn't want to lose after getting into the groove of litigation.
Speaking of which, I'm at work and it's 9:30 pm. If you read this, take time out to help someone you see on the street, on your way to work...whatever. If you allow it to be spiritually refreshing, then it will be. Plus you get to make someone else's day better than it already is.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Apple Store Part III
Guess who's in the Apple Store again at 5 in the morning.
Now that I live outside of Manhattan, I have 2 choices to make when it comes to going out at night:
1. I make the ridiculously long commute and cut my night short by taking the last train out north which is at 1 in the morning from Grand Central.
2. I make the ridiculously long commute and make my night extremely long by waiting for the first train Sunday morning which is at 5:35 am.
*note how I don't make going out in Westchester an option.
Number 2 is tolerable so as long as I have friends to hang out with or a place to stay before my train leaves and I can save money. Unfortunately, number 2 was a failed experiment tonight. My friends who wanted to do karaoke all night ended up going home at 1:30, conveniently after the last train had left. Furthermore, they went home with their significant others, so hanging out in the living room while they were getting their freak on might not have been the best of ideas for any of us. So now I'm here again. The Apple Store. Moreover, instead of saving money, I had since bought a slice of pizza, a gray's papaya hotdog, and now will spend a few more bucks to get to Grand Central after finishing this post. Even more annoying is the fact that my car is parked in a train station garage in Westchester and I had only paid for parking up until 3 am. I expect to get a ticket for $15 when i get back.
Lonely, expensive and dietarily unhealthy.
Oh, and some random police officer waiting in his car had nothing better to do during his shift, so he decided to point his dumb laser light (presumably one he had just bought from duane reade or something) on my chest as I had walked across 2 streets.
Now that I live outside of Manhattan, I have 2 choices to make when it comes to going out at night:
1. I make the ridiculously long commute and cut my night short by taking the last train out north which is at 1 in the morning from Grand Central.
2. I make the ridiculously long commute and make my night extremely long by waiting for the first train Sunday morning which is at 5:35 am.
*note how I don't make going out in Westchester an option.
Number 2 is tolerable so as long as I have friends to hang out with or a place to stay before my train leaves and I can save money. Unfortunately, number 2 was a failed experiment tonight. My friends who wanted to do karaoke all night ended up going home at 1:30, conveniently after the last train had left. Furthermore, they went home with their significant others, so hanging out in the living room while they were getting their freak on might not have been the best of ideas for any of us. So now I'm here again. The Apple Store. Moreover, instead of saving money, I had since bought a slice of pizza, a gray's papaya hotdog, and now will spend a few more bucks to get to Grand Central after finishing this post. Even more annoying is the fact that my car is parked in a train station garage in Westchester and I had only paid for parking up until 3 am. I expect to get a ticket for $15 when i get back.
Lonely, expensive and dietarily unhealthy.
Oh, and some random police officer waiting in his car had nothing better to do during his shift, so he decided to point his dumb laser light (presumably one he had just bought from duane reade or something) on my chest as I had walked across 2 streets.
I am a Jackass New Yorker
Last night, I was in a hurry to meet up with some friends in Manhattan. I had made the long commute from Westchester on a train and was late for my little alcohol rendezvous. I decided to flag down a cab along Lexington Avenue. To my dismay, all of the cabs were occupied and I was getting frustrated. 15 minutes later, I saw an available cab half a block up, and I raised my hand as if summoning a servant to hurry up and get me some water. I then started running toward the cab and finally made it to the passenger door with my hand on the handle. At that very moment, a young man and his girlfriend - all dressed up in their new designer clothes - start to enter the cab on the other side.
I never thought it was in me, but I gave him a mean stare. . . the type country fathers give to the farmboys found with their daughter in her bedroom and right before raising and aiming a 2-barrel shotgun to the boy's face (and ass as he jumps out the window). Then, I raised both hands and said "for God's sake man," and then I started running toward a cab a few feet away that had just become available. A split second after I turned away, I heard the guy say, "Hey buddy, it's no problem, we'll just get another cab."
At the time of his statement, I hadn't realized what he had said. When I got into the new cab, I noticed that even after I had chosen the new cab, the couple decided to let the disputed cab go, and then they stood on the sidewalk waiting for another cab, presumably for the next few minutes.
Lesson learned. Not everyone in New York is a jackass. The second you make that presumption, you become susceptible to being one yourself.
Welcome to New York AcidJazzBoy. You really are a bitchass bastard.
I never thought it was in me, but I gave him a mean stare. . . the type country fathers give to the farmboys found with their daughter in her bedroom and right before raising and aiming a 2-barrel shotgun to the boy's face (and ass as he jumps out the window). Then, I raised both hands and said "for God's sake man," and then I started running toward a cab a few feet away that had just become available. A split second after I turned away, I heard the guy say, "Hey buddy, it's no problem, we'll just get another cab."
At the time of his statement, I hadn't realized what he had said. When I got into the new cab, I noticed that even after I had chosen the new cab, the couple decided to let the disputed cab go, and then they stood on the sidewalk waiting for another cab, presumably for the next few minutes.
Lesson learned. Not everyone in New York is a jackass. The second you make that presumption, you become susceptible to being one yourself.
Welcome to New York AcidJazzBoy. You really are a bitchass bastard.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
My Ipod is Dead
I can't believe this. I had such a sad day. After two hours of waiting for some help with my comatose Ipod and helping a total stranger find her birth certificate and other vital documents/information(http://acidjazzboy.blogspot.com/2006/08/blogging-from-apple-store-and-saving.html), the "geniuses" of Apple couldn't do a thing. Suddenly, the Apple Store along 5th Avenue didn't seem like the electronics version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory; it was more like a killer season finale of ER.
My Ipod is dead.
It's too expensive to get it fixed and there is no guarantee that the hard drive will not self-discombobulate again. It's gone only after a bit over a year. Yes. The warranty has expired.
I can't tell which was worse, the death of my Ipod - a comfort purchase I made in California after bumping into my ex-fiancee - or the guilt of buying a new Ipod Nano while trimming the weight of the wallet and bank account. I seriously felt guilty for buying a new one. I feel better now after listening to the new Brand New Heavies song "Let's Do It Again" from their new album "Get Used to It." http://www.myspace.com/thebrandnewheavies
It's a good thing I don't have a pet. . . or even worse, a tamagotchi. http://www.mimitchi.com/html/q1.htm
My Ipod is dead.
It's too expensive to get it fixed and there is no guarantee that the hard drive will not self-discombobulate again. It's gone only after a bit over a year. Yes. The warranty has expired.
I can't tell which was worse, the death of my Ipod - a comfort purchase I made in California after bumping into my ex-fiancee - or the guilt of buying a new Ipod Nano while trimming the weight of the wallet and bank account. I seriously felt guilty for buying a new one. I feel better now after listening to the new Brand New Heavies song "Let's Do It Again" from their new album "Get Used to It." http://www.myspace.com/thebrandnewheavies
It's a good thing I don't have a pet. . . or even worse, a tamagotchi. http://www.mimitchi.com/html/q1.htm
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Blogging from the Apple Store and Saving Someone's Life
So my Ipod crashed on me today. All my songs are gone and I'm upset. It's a good thing that all my music is on my computer. To think, I was so excited too this morning because the Brand New Heavies came out with a new album and they had reunited with their star singer N'Dea Davenport. The album is awesome. It's no Brother Sister, but it's definitely worth looking at. In any case, I'm here at the Apple store on 59 st. and 5th Ave. and it is RIDICULOUS.
The store is underground located right at the lawn of the General Motors Building. The entrance is this louvre-like glass structure protruding from the ground with a huge white apple icon hanging in the middle for all to see. A spiral staircase (translucent as you might have guessed) leads down into this basement full of Apple products waiting to be purchased and samples of products being abused by the freeloader consumer public (i.e. me right now blogging on a Mac mini). The genius bar line is quite long. I think 20 people are staffed at the moment behind the genius bar, 6 of which are around to fix the Ipods of New York. It's around 6:10 PM and my appointment is at 7.
The real story though was getting here. I was visiting a close friend, a med student living in Murray Hill, and decided to take a cab to the Apple Store from NYU medical center after checking out her new apartment. When I entered the cab, I noticed a folder in the backseat. It was a typical letter sized folder with a mix of documents of different sizes and colors. . . uhr, at least that's what I had observed from the open side of the folder.
I told the cab driver that his previous passenger had left a crapload of important documents in his backseat and the driver flipped. He got the folder, and while driving 45 MPH through rush hour traffic along First Ave., he tried looking for a phone number. He literally had the passenger's birth certificate a millimeter away from his nose. . . and that's when I told him I could help him (especially since I was pretty sure that current phone numbers aren't normally found on your birth certificate).
The passenger was applying for a social security card. All her credit cards were in the folder and her parents' info including SS numbers were written all over the place. I found her phone number and decided to call her.
She flipped. She was screaming like a 90's murder-horror-screamer victim. She couldn't believe how "stupid" she was. Of course I calmed her down and told her that I would take care of the documents until she could get them from me. She basically said that I saved her life, and well, that's an ok thing to hear after a long day.
That's it for now. I think I will check out some more Apple products I will never buy in this lifetime. Check out the new Brand New Heavies Album. It's on Itunes.
The store is underground located right at the lawn of the General Motors Building. The entrance is this louvre-like glass structure protruding from the ground with a huge white apple icon hanging in the middle for all to see. A spiral staircase (translucent as you might have guessed) leads down into this basement full of Apple products waiting to be purchased and samples of products being abused by the freeloader consumer public (i.e. me right now blogging on a Mac mini). The genius bar line is quite long. I think 20 people are staffed at the moment behind the genius bar, 6 of which are around to fix the Ipods of New York. It's around 6:10 PM and my appointment is at 7.
The real story though was getting here. I was visiting a close friend, a med student living in Murray Hill, and decided to take a cab to the Apple Store from NYU medical center after checking out her new apartment. When I entered the cab, I noticed a folder in the backseat. It was a typical letter sized folder with a mix of documents of different sizes and colors. . . uhr, at least that's what I had observed from the open side of the folder.
I told the cab driver that his previous passenger had left a crapload of important documents in his backseat and the driver flipped. He got the folder, and while driving 45 MPH through rush hour traffic along First Ave., he tried looking for a phone number. He literally had the passenger's birth certificate a millimeter away from his nose. . . and that's when I told him I could help him (especially since I was pretty sure that current phone numbers aren't normally found on your birth certificate).
The passenger was applying for a social security card. All her credit cards were in the folder and her parents' info including SS numbers were written all over the place. I found her phone number and decided to call her.
She flipped. She was screaming like a 90's murder-horror-screamer victim. She couldn't believe how "stupid" she was. Of course I calmed her down and told her that I would take care of the documents until she could get them from me. She basically said that I saved her life, and well, that's an ok thing to hear after a long day.
That's it for now. I think I will check out some more Apple products I will never buy in this lifetime. Check out the new Brand New Heavies Album. It's on Itunes.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Three Episodes
1. The I Hate Myself Episode: The other week, my friends treated me out to dinner for my birthday at this funky Japanese restaurant for some sushi in midtown. Upon entering the restaurant, there was a vestibule with two antique chairs (presumably for waiting), and flanked by glass doors leading into the actual dining area. My friends were, as expected, pretty late and I was sitting down on one of the wooden "thrones" facing the outside. After a few more minutes, two of my friends showed up but were waiting for everyone else before being seated because Times Square customs dictate that you may not be seated unless your entire party is present.
While we were waiting, a young woman in office clothes and with a company ID walked into the vestibule presumably to make a reservation with the restaurant. She was a small lady and appeared to have deformities on her hands. More specifically, she had shrunk hands and barely any fingers.
Then, I (the idiot, as you will see) placed myself in a dilemma that I figured would be a lose-lose situation. And of course, knowing my luck with self-fulfilling prophecies, it ended up as being a huge loss.
The lady tried opening the door leading into the dining area where the reception was located, but couldn't because her hands were too small to pull the thick gold handle. In what some would consider to be a vile inhumane move, I did not immediately come to her aid. Let me explain first. The last few times this exact same scenario had occurred resulted in unilateral screaming episodes and reprimand because I had offended them. I realized that some people didn't want to be helped. So each time it happens again, I freeze out of fear and I don't know if I'm going to be offending anyone. Lose lose. If I help, I'm insensitive. If I don't help, I'm just not human.
After a few unsuccessful attempts by the lady to open the door, my friend asked me to open the door for the lady...and I did. The awkwardness from not doing it right away loomed over the vestibule like the defining scene of an antagonist's character in a movie where there are no real villains, just humans with or without errors. I was full of errors that day. Happy birthday to the sensitive man...the overly sensitive man that thinks too much. At least now I've made my resolution. It was just such a sad moment for me and I can't help but feel idiotic.
I think I'll just keep on helping anyone at anytime, because that's just natural of me to do so. After all, I'm known to always open doors for just about anyone. What would I care if they thought I was offending them? Err on the side of objective consideration I say.
2. The Not Thinking Before Talking Episode: My friend bartends at this hip Japanese fusion place in the upper east side. She does shifts on Sundays and asked me to keep her company last Sunday.
Let's fast forward to the next morning. In a nutshell, I was sick of alcohol and my bathroom was not spared from the evidence.
Moral of the story: If you have a friend that bartends, and she asks you what you want to drink, never answer with, "Just give me whatever you want me to have. You can practice your mixing on me."
3. The Real Independence Episode: I bought myself my first car ever. Will post a pic soon. 2000 Grand Jeep Cherokee Laredo. I also got my apartment...
...and a phone call from my future boss telling me to start work earlier. Oh well. At least I can use the cash flow.
While we were waiting, a young woman in office clothes and with a company ID walked into the vestibule presumably to make a reservation with the restaurant. She was a small lady and appeared to have deformities on her hands. More specifically, she had shrunk hands and barely any fingers.
Then, I (the idiot, as you will see) placed myself in a dilemma that I figured would be a lose-lose situation. And of course, knowing my luck with self-fulfilling prophecies, it ended up as being a huge loss.
The lady tried opening the door leading into the dining area where the reception was located, but couldn't because her hands were too small to pull the thick gold handle. In what some would consider to be a vile inhumane move, I did not immediately come to her aid. Let me explain first. The last few times this exact same scenario had occurred resulted in unilateral screaming episodes and reprimand because I had offended them. I realized that some people didn't want to be helped. So each time it happens again, I freeze out of fear and I don't know if I'm going to be offending anyone. Lose lose. If I help, I'm insensitive. If I don't help, I'm just not human.
After a few unsuccessful attempts by the lady to open the door, my friend asked me to open the door for the lady...and I did. The awkwardness from not doing it right away loomed over the vestibule like the defining scene of an antagonist's character in a movie where there are no real villains, just humans with or without errors. I was full of errors that day. Happy birthday to the sensitive man...the overly sensitive man that thinks too much. At least now I've made my resolution. It was just such a sad moment for me and I can't help but feel idiotic.
I think I'll just keep on helping anyone at anytime, because that's just natural of me to do so. After all, I'm known to always open doors for just about anyone. What would I care if they thought I was offending them? Err on the side of objective consideration I say.
2. The Not Thinking Before Talking Episode: My friend bartends at this hip Japanese fusion place in the upper east side. She does shifts on Sundays and asked me to keep her company last Sunday.
Let's fast forward to the next morning. In a nutshell, I was sick of alcohol and my bathroom was not spared from the evidence.
Moral of the story: If you have a friend that bartends, and she asks you what you want to drink, never answer with, "Just give me whatever you want me to have. You can practice your mixing on me."
3. The Real Independence Episode: I bought myself my first car ever. Will post a pic soon. 2000 Grand Jeep Cherokee Laredo. I also got my apartment...
...and a phone call from my future boss telling me to start work earlier. Oh well. At least I can use the cash flow.
*Recommendations: Watch "The Descent" with friends that can't stand freaky movies - It's messed up. Definitely watch "Little Miss Sunshine"
Monday, August 07, 2006
28 Years
No. This is not a movie critique on that sick British apocalyptic movie about zombies (which I realized is 28 days and not years anyway). It's something just as frightening. My 28th birthday.
Let's plot my life at this very moment of turning 28 and see where I am in the universal scheme of things.
Job? Yes. Lawyer to be pending a favorable letter by the New York Board of Law Examiners. My boss just called me and told me that I should start earlier. While cutting into vacation time is never a fun thing, starting my new career should be just as fun. . . I think. Of course, we're plotting where I am at this very moment, so a further conversation on attempting to get a masters in music business at NYU wouldn't be in line with this blog entry.
Health? Good luck to me. My cholesterol score is probably higher than all of my standardized test scores in my lifetime put together. It's time to hit the gym and get that body into good shape. I promise. This is the year. And yes...that includes a healthier diet.
Partner/Lover/Girlfriend? None. Am I almost there? Not really. Other than random dates and setups, *deleted segment* Change topic. Won't jinx anything at this point.
Wealth? No paycheck yet. Nothing to talk about here.
Place to live? Don't get me started with my apartment search. New York real estate is probably the most anyone will ever have to spend in their entire life. I just want a washer and dryer in my unit and I don't want a kitchen with linoleum floors. It's really gross.
So in general, I give myself an 8 out of 10 for starting a new life as a lawyer in NY. I have a lot to work on this year. I can't wait to see what happens. Happy birthday to me.
Let's plot my life at this very moment of turning 28 and see where I am in the universal scheme of things.
Job? Yes. Lawyer to be pending a favorable letter by the New York Board of Law Examiners. My boss just called me and told me that I should start earlier. While cutting into vacation time is never a fun thing, starting my new career should be just as fun. . . I think. Of course, we're plotting where I am at this very moment, so a further conversation on attempting to get a masters in music business at NYU wouldn't be in line with this blog entry.
Health? Good luck to me. My cholesterol score is probably higher than all of my standardized test scores in my lifetime put together. It's time to hit the gym and get that body into good shape. I promise. This is the year. And yes...that includes a healthier diet.
Partner/Lover/Girlfriend? None. Am I almost there? Not really. Other than random dates and setups, *deleted segment* Change topic. Won't jinx anything at this point.
Wealth? No paycheck yet. Nothing to talk about here.
Place to live? Don't get me started with my apartment search. New York real estate is probably the most anyone will ever have to spend in their entire life. I just want a washer and dryer in my unit and I don't want a kitchen with linoleum floors. It's really gross.
So in general, I give myself an 8 out of 10 for starting a new life as a lawyer in NY. I have a lot to work on this year. I can't wait to see what happens. Happy birthday to me.
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